


the takeover (the sweeping insensitivity)

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Archaic Speech, Battlefield, But it applies here, Character Study, Don’t know if that’s a tag, Gore, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Relationship Study, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Title from Imogen Heap’s Hide and Seek.





	the takeover (the sweeping insensitivity)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Imogen Heap’s Hide and Seek.

_ Oh, I’ll find you. _

-

Sometimes Felix kept their games of hide and seek going for days at a time. He went about including their friends in a tactical manner that led them to infer the origins of his and Sylvain’s play.

Sylvain guessed at their trepidation over this ritual, this tainting of a childhood pastime.

Even when they were children, though, thoughtless in the way of cutting each other open with words, hide and seek had meant an end to their mutual torment. Reuniting had inevitably ended with unguarded laughter, begrudging confessions of devotion, lapses of oceanic silence during which time’s machinations surrendered to joy found in one another’s company.

That joy had hardened, darkened, matured into a need Sylvain nourished by the hour. Most indulgences were not meant for him, he knew, but denying himself this pleasure meant forsaking the Goddess’ benevolence. 

He no longer cared for blasphemy.

Such was the terrain of his thoughts when he came upon Felix, himself wedged between the wooden shavings of an angular alcove in the cathedral, its precarious trajectory slanting into the rafters before edging outwards, becoming dust-fallen firmaments. 

Laughing low in his throat, Sylvain positioned himself directly beneath him and said, “However shall I bring you down, Fraldarius?”

“You doubt your own skill? My Goddess, if I’d known you’d duck your tail between your legs, I would’ve slashed your throat the moment your mind drifted.”

Vulpine, Sylvain’s mouth broadened into a predatory snarl. “Careful. I might need your meat in my teeth; you forget your _ place_, Felix.”

The taste of his mouth taunted Sylvain to the point of madness. Swallowing, his throat achingly parched, he watched Felix scowl, dark hair tumbling down in distressed waves.

He said, “How dare you speak of my place. Don’t pretend you know what that means.”

Sylvain enunciated his words with an excruciating clarity, memorizing the burgeoning flush warming Felix’s skin: “_You’ll lie beneath me this night or hasten my death.” _

How he savored the rush of Felix’s fleeting thoughts, alive in the twitching firelight of his eyes, the slow scrambling of his hands as he deftly maneuvered his way down, down, _ down. _

Sylvain alone observed him caught in this thrall. No one else conceived of the great Felix Hugo Fraldarius suffering through a dumbstruck moment of speechlessness, overcome with shock past the point of understanding. 

This night, Sylvain’s eyes might wander with avarice as Felix endlessly negotiated the parameters of his freedom before deteriorating into overfucked devastation.

Stumbling on the fragile wooden windowsill, mouth parted in wordless wonder, Felix surrendered to a cruel kiss, open-mouthed and interrogative. Oftentimes Sylvain fucked himself open with thoughts of Felix’s perpetually oversexed appearance: tunic lovingly disheveled, hair ravishingly undone, lips pearled with dew accumulated from strenuous training regimens. He dare not go through the effort now, not with Felix crushed against him, his right leg wedged firmly between Sylvain’s thighs, breathing against his mouth in shredded sighs.

Grunting, Sylvain wrenched him back by the hair hard enough to summon the whites of Felix’s eyes, albeit briefly. 

His left hand trembling, fingers scaling the pivot of Felix’s neck, Sylvain spoke against his open mouth: “I will suffuse your body with the torrent of my desire or else die dreaming with your teeth in my heart.”

They spoke no more. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project (including the LLF Comment Builder), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:  
Short comments  
Long comments  
Questions  
“<3” as extra kudos  
Reader-reader interaction  
This author replies to comments.


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